On Super Bowl Sunday, while I lay on a yoga mat in my writing workshop, instead of overeating and watching a blowout on TV, I breathed in and out deeply as instructed during guided meditation. And yet, my heart was pounding from nervousness at getting meditation wrong somehow.
I have anxiety in situations like this when anxiety is supposed to be furthest from my mind, like sometimes when I get a massage and my face is in that little squishy doughnut, or when I used to leave a yoga class and get in my car to drive away from the peaceful space ten years ago. It’s in my DNA. I am constantly fighting the battle against genetics, and mostly losing. I hate it. I often find myself thinking, Why can’t I just be normal?